Monday, 10 October 2016

[CAMPAIGN JOURNAL] The Inheritance #01: The Ruin in the Forest

That
night, everyone in Haghill was eating, drinking and making merry. Huberic the
Stout, the petty lord of the walled forest village was marrying off one of his
men. Slaughter Serkart was a loyal retainer, and the girl was rich, with a
dowry of several cows: they were clearly meant for each other. While Huberic
and his retinue feasted in the mead hall, the people of Haghill and the
travellers who’d come for the occasion were doing the same in private houses
and taverns.

One
company which did not fully submerge itself in revelry was sitting around a
beer-laden table by the hearth in The Dancing Basilisk, waiting for someone.
They were:

Gadur Yir, a half-orc fighter, wearing worn travelling clothes, with a
bastard sword on his back;

Jonlar Zilv, a middle-aged travelling minstrel;

Harmand the Reckless, another half-orc with a very similar personal
style, but with a two-handed sword, and the symbol of Zeltar, god of
adventurers around his neck;

and Sufulgar del’ Akkad, a thoroughly unremarkable fellow in all black,
a cleric of Kurlakum of the Seven Misfortunes.

The Inheritance

These
strangers were brought together in this place by the same reason: although they
came from five different corners of the world, each was carrying a letter
promising them an inheritance of riches and power – with the clues leading to
an old manor house belonging to the letter’s author, “Vitus Bonifaces”. Some
arrived on the Isle of Erillion in Baklin, where none had heard of the name:
and some in Gont, where some seemed to know, but would fall curiously silent if
the name was mentioned. Midway between Baklin and Gont was Haghill, where they
had at least converged, near penniless, and found an old man who was willing to
talk … if they would meet him at the Dancing Basilisk after nightfall.

“Just
call me the Master of the Night”, shrieked Sufulgar, drawing a round of
laughter from the company, and making a drunken peasant embrace him from
behind.

“Master
of the Night, my friend! Come on out, let’s… let’s tour the other taverns
before dawn! Let me show the way...”

They
paused outside in the muddy street, below the wall separating village from
wilderness, and Sufulgar looked darkly into the man’s eyes, trying to scare him
off. “I foretell… I see much misfortune! I wouldn’t go home if I were you.”

The
peasant was taken back but straightened himself, drunkenly declaring “Sure… the
night is still young”, before stumbling towards the next drinking hole.

“…are
you sure we need him? Who is this creep, anyway?” Sufulgar overheard as he returned
through the back door.

The
festivities were in full swing, and some people were already dancing on the
tables, when someone at last flung himself down in the empty chair. It wasn’t
the old man, though, but a moustached man wearing mail under his cloak, and an
axe on his belt.

“Which
of you is Hólangur?” he asked, then seeing the blank stares, continued, “It is
risky, but it can be done. If we want a shot at it, we have to do it tonight.
What do you think?”

Harmand
seized the opportunity: “We are interested. I think he is Hólangur over there.
He hasn’t introduced himself yet.”

Sufulgar
was taken aback “Me? I thought...”

The
intruder was puzzled. “Aren’t you the men I was looking for? Right, then...”

“We
are well-meaning scoundrels”, continued Harmand. “We should team up. Tell us
more about this deal.”

The
stranger looked right and left, and excused himself to take a leak outside, but
Gadur Yir and Einar followed him to make sure he wouldn’t disappear. The man
sighed, then shrugged and returned to the table.

“Right.
It is about a ruined village not far from here… there is danger, and we have to
be careful. We may win, or we may never make it out alive.”

“We
live for danger!”

“…of
course, they are robbers who prey on innocent farmers and travellers, so they
will not be missed by anyone. We still don’t know how many there are and the
treasure may not actually be there…”

“You’ve
got a deal.”

“All
right. Actually, Hólangur may not need to be involved after all. We will just
have to meet up with my companions – you see, they are outside the walls in the
Seven Symbols Pub – but we will have to avoid the gates. The guards may ask
questions, and Hólangur may know. It would be best if he was thinking we were
still here somewhere.”

Haghill

They
left the Dancing Basilisk, and looked around in the back alley. The wooden
parapets were patrolled regularly, but the coast was clear – no guard in sight!
Gadur Yir threw a rope on one of the beams, climbed up in a hurry, then
beckoned to Jonlar Zilv to follow. After the minstrel, Einar was the third, but
just as he landed on top of Haghill’s walls, he saw a door open in the tower
next to the gatehouse, and the face of a guard stare at them dumbfounded. Gadur
Yir was already on him, throwing him into the tower interior… into a ring of
four more guards, looking up in surprise from a conversation. “By Kurakum’s
seven hands!” one exclaimed.

The
half-orc quickly slammed the door shut, and held it while two men from the
inside tried to batter it down, and someone sounded an alarm horn. There were
running steps, and more were coming from the gatehouse. While Gadur Yir
desperately held the door, Jonlar Zilv struck a chord on his lute, quickly
playing two verses of “You Are Innocent In Your Dreams”, and sending the men
inside into a deep slumber. The way was safely blocked for the moment.

“Now
what?”

“We
let down the rope and climb, quick!”

“The
horses! Bring the horses!” someone inside was shouting, and men were running in
the street, as one by one, the company dropped down outside the walls of
Haghill.

Shortly
later, in the Seven Symbols Pub, an establishment even more lower-class than
the Dancing Basilisk, Kontar introduced his companions. “This is Gasrit the
Oracular” – pointing at a robed man with a mace – “…and this is Scitale
Big-Ears.” Big-Ears was aptly named, and carried a bow and a dagger.

“To
be honest”, Kontar continued, “it is not exactly about the nearby ruined
village. I didn’t know whether I could trust you, and wasn’t entirely
truthful.”

“And
if you couldn’t?”

“Then
I’d have lost you on those walls and let you sort it out.”

“It
is only fair. We wouldn’t have done differently.”

“Well
then. You see – there is this band of robbers, led by Wulfsten the White.
Recently, I have been told, they found an overgrown ruin in the Forest of
Death, west of Haghill and not far from this road – only Hólangur knows what
direction, though. They dug up some kind of treasure, and along with it, the
dead – well, undead – and while they lost a lot of men in the battle, they won.
They are still there, resting, and if someone were to surprise them… Wulfsten
is a tough customer, but the band is weakened for now. IF we got there before Hólangur,
the treasure would be all ours.”

They
were absorbed in the conversation when Jonlar Zilv noticed they were being
watched. A ruddy-faced peasant, seemingly trying to fish a fly out of his beer
mug, was casting a glance at the company, but when he saw Jonlar was looking
back, he yawned, got up, and slowly headed for the front entrance. Einar, also
slowly, left through the kitchen to round the building, while the minstrel
followed towards the front. The peasant was conversing with a hooded horseman –
“Yes, I think so… …better not make a racket now… …return” before he sprung
on horseback, and both rode back towards Haghill’s gate. It was time to leave
the Seven Symbols before it was too late. Sufulgor del Akkad reached for his
purse, to notice he has been robbed.

“That
drunk who had embraced you! And you even let him get away!” Harmand the Reckless
was roaring with laughter, while Sufulgor looked at him darkly.

A few
hours later, they were walking in single file through the Forest of Death.
Sufulgor sauntered to Harmand the Reckless, and whispered hoarsely “I have a
confession to make. I… am the keeper of supernatural powers!”

“Glad
to know, Master of the Night. In return, I have to confess I am also a
magic-user.”

Meanwhile,
Jonlar Zilv was singing softly, mostly to himself, as he got close to Kontar
the Pacer – then started the well-known ballad “You Are As Bad As I Am” to
charm him. Kontar seemed friendly, and in good spirits, and that was good
enough for Jonlar.

They
rested for a while, with Einar on watch. He feigned sleep, and could barely
keep awake, but he saw Scitale Big-Ears produce multiple daggers from
underneath his clothes, which he oiled with care, along with a bunch of arrows.
He continued to watch, but eventually nodded off, dead tired. At sunrise, Einar
distributed his remaining food among those who had none.

“I
feed them – they are now my servants” he said to himself.

Investigating
the general area where they suspected the ruins, they found a carefully
obscured trail leading South, and the traces of three men who’d recently come
in the opposite direction. Scouting ahead, Sufulgor and Jonlar Zilv spotted the
ruins, an overgrown, half-collapsed structure on a small elevation, surrounded
by a dense forest of oak trees. There was no sign of inhabitants, and the two
gaps in the wall showed a columned interior.

They
quickly agreed on a plan of action: they would split up and surround the
structure from both sides, then ambush the resting robbers. A bird call would
mean ‘Attack’ and a frog’s croaking ‘Withdraw’, which everyone agreed on and
promptly forgot. Einar and Sufulgor crept around the walls to the other side,
Harmand the Reckless snuck towards the smaller gap, while the rest headed for a
place where a wider segment had fallen, revealing a larger entrance. Just as
they got close, ragged men with swords and axes streamed out to meet them head
first, and a row of slingers stepped up to pelt them with stones.

Battle at the Ruin

The
battle was brutal and bloody. Gasrit the Oracular went down under the
slingshots and swordstrikes, and he was shortly joined in death by Scitale
Big-Ears. Gadur Yir and Jonlar Zilv were badly wounded, and Gadur was saved by
Kontar the Pacer rushing to aid him and divide his attackers. A furious melee
developed by the entrance; while on the other side, Einar and Sufulgor faced a
smaller group of enemies… but also someone far worse. Wulfsten the White,
towering in his chain armour and large metal shield, came towards them with a
heavy mace in his right and a golden crown on his brow.

“You
shall serve me in the Shadow World, slaves!” he snarled, and he was on Einar,
while shaking off Sufulgor’s hold person spell.

Einar,
recognising the superior opponent, held his place, although he knew he was
outmatched. “You are nameless and a mere servant! Einar Sigurdsson will be your
slayer!” he cried as Wulfsten laughed.

The
tide of battle was turned by Harmand the Reckless, who leaped into the
building, and, scattering the slingers with his two-handed sword, broke the
robbers’ ranks. Most of the ruffians turned to flee, and finally, the fanatical
Wulfsten was surrounded and mercilessly cut down, Einar delivering the final
strike. The Northman fell, dropping his heavy mace as his bloody crown slipped
off of his head. Einar lifted his opponent’s mace, a fine weapon that seemed to
be supernaturally well-balanced, while Harmand, satisfied, put his crown on his
own head, and was filled with visions of glory and a sense of being the leader
of this ragtag bunch – a born leader!

Gadur
Yir and Jonlar Zilv bound the survivors’ wounds as well as they could, then set
out to explore the place. The interior of the ruin contained a recently
disturbed burial pit with hacked-up remains of long-dead cadavers, as well as
the robbers’ remaining treasure, 300 ancient electrum coins, and a 70 gp brass bracelet
with moss opals. However, another item seemed to be missing… a leather sack was
cut open, and the contents were gone. Harmand suspected a robber he had seen
fleeing the battle was carrying it, but his thoughts were soon interrupted by a
new development.

“Kontar!
Kontaaaaar! Come on out!” came the mocking cry through the forest, along with the
sound of galloping horses. Hólangur has come to claim his prize.

They
quickly gathered their belongings and slipped into the woods, trying to
disappear, but the horsemen were better trackers than that. They rode them
down, a company of six ragtag never-do-wells and Hólangur, his eyes mad with cheer
that he has found the thieves. Hólangur almost trod Sufulgor del Akkad
underfoot, and the cleric could only roll aside by swearing to Kurlakum that he
would offer one of his fingers to the dark god. The mounted men were good
fighters, but fortunately poor horsemen, and they went down with their master,
who had expected weaker resistance. One man surrendered, and Einar Sigurdsson
spared him, accepting him as his servant – so did Brusuf the Retainer join the
company.

Kontar
the Pacer was also pleased at the turn of events, claiming one of the horses,
and exclaiming “And from now, my name shall be known as Kontar the Rider!”

They
parted on good terms, Kontar receiving one share of the loot and the horse, an
departing the Forest of Death for the east – towards the town of Gont and the
eastern wilderness.

The Isle of Erillion

There
was some discussion about the horses. They bore Huberic of Haghill’s brand, and
Brusuf confirmed Hólangur had simply stolen them. Bringing them back to Haghill
could clear things up – then again, Huberic was known to be a cruel and
capricious landlord, and they decided it was not worth the trouble. However,
Gadur Yir and Harmand the Reckless decided to saddle two of the mounts – who barely
tolerated the half-orc smell – and decided to track down the robber fleeing
with the remaining treasure, while the others, too tired and wounded to follow,
stayed behind. They gave the dead a Viking funeral, and, not trusting the
place, set up a small camp some way from the ruins. A good thing it was, too: at
night, Einar saw a company of Northmen march towards the structure, and after finding
it plundered, set up camp, and engage in drinking, brawling and general revelry.

Meanwhile,
Gadur Yir and Harmand the Reckless had reached the road, and to their
displeasure, saw not only the man’s tracks back towards Haghill, but a band of forty
goblins in pursuit. They suspected the two of them would not be safe with the
small miscreants, and decided to ride through the forest instead, hoping to cut
off the robber’s escape. A few hours later, they tied their horses in the
forest, and set up an ambush next to a small meadow, where the road was passing
through.

Time
passed, and at last, their man was coming in a hurry, a large bulging sack on
his back, and no sight of the goblins. However, he was shortly joined by
newcomers… a group of five large, dog-sized butterflies who seemed to find him interesting,
and followed at a close distance. The robber didn’t make any sudden movements,
hoping to avoid provoking the butterflies, and the half-orcs had the unpleasant
idea they would fare very badly if they attacked. Finally, Gadur Yir cut
through the Gordian knot: he threw a handful of stones among the butterflies,
who, thinking it came from the unlucky robber, rushed and killed him. The
companions waited as the colourful beasts fed, leaving behind a drained husk. Then,
they claimed the sack – and the contents were well worth it. The treasure the
man had carried away was a large bowl with a golden rim, geometric patterns,
the symbols of upturned men, and resting on four lions’ paws… a ritual vessel
belonging to the ancient faith of the druids.

The
next day, the company met at the campsite, carefully avoiding the sleeping
Northmen in the ruin. They were still weak and wounded, and the gloomy Sufulgor
was missing one of his fingers. They headed back to the road, and contemplating
their options between Haghill and the unknown, turned their mounts towards
Gont.

“And
one of the manor houses is inhabited by Karweros the vampire lord.”

“…and
we will begin to visit these places randomly…”

(Session
date 8 October 2016).

***

Referee’s
notes: “Here is your starting situation and an interesting mystery.” “Fuck you!
We will immediately abandon it and go investigate this random tangent that
crossed our path.” You know a sandbox campaign is destined for great things
when the first few minutes of the first session demolish any pretense of
following the bait, and it devolves into high-energy shenanigans with
untrustworthy and potentially treacherous never-do-wells, bloody butchery and sudden
turns of events. It helps that everyone was right on the same page: not only
did the players receive a small setting guide in advance (with “new” character
options – our games haven’t featured “nature-oriented” classes since our d20
days), they knew the frame of reference was all Caldwellian low fantasy. More
on this in a later post.

This session
wasn’t built out of thin air. Employing the ideas summed up in
an earlier post, I had a hex key of the area, I had Hubericof Haghill (whose contents I mercilessly looted during the session to keep
the adventure moving – some of the NPC names may be familiar to old JG hands),
and even a dungeon-like area or two that didn’t end up coming into play. It was
not too much, but it didn’t have to be – things fall into their place during
the session.

10 comments:

This is great low level stuff. Once every four years I come across a species of D&D I recognise. It pleases me, I am calm.

==but Gadur Yir and Einar followed him to make sure he wouldn’t disappear

Yep.

[I won't say this again - no matter how I ask a question it is with respect as I consider you a peer]I didn't buy the rigmarole about leaving the castle via the wall in sight of the gatehouse. Good players would have done it out of sight, and better players would have gone through the gatehouse with intimidating banter. No reason to stop people leaving with 40% of the dwellings just outside.

==when Jonlar Zilv noticed they were being watched. A ruddy-faced peasant, seemingly trying to fish a fly out of his beer mug, was casting a glance at the company

Mechanically how did you manage this - active, passive, automatic?

==they found a carefully obscured trail leading South, and the traces of three men who’d recently come in the opposite direction.

This is valuable to the pcs but unbelievable since none of them have a declared expertise in the field. Do you allow mundane characters to gain difficult information as a matter of probability? I don't, I am not talking about finicky skills but a broad sense of professional expertise is a minimum requisite to have a chance. I can easily imagine that adventurers are not 'mundane' and all have some measure of scouting nous.

You have good players, though they blundered into the ruins. Do you screen them? Is Premier still among them, he is a good writer. Also Hungarian women have great asses unlike Russian women with their little boys asses.

==

If I can give you some disinterested advice on the font you used for the letter. I really like it. it reminds me of Warhammer, but you would make it substantially more legible if you could thin it, it looks bold. If you want players to read it, make it more legible.

==

Hólangur-moustached man wearing mailVSan old man who was willing to talk

As you've described it this seems less like a party who were winging it and more like a party who could not be arsed reading your letter. As a DM I spend half my time in and half out of character and in this case I would have mocked the players for their fecklessness OOC - but of course players can do anything they please. But I know how hard it is to extract hours of play into a few pages so no doubt something is left behind.

Hulllo! This is Jonlar Zilv's player, offering a minor piece of commentary to future readers.

The game is run in Hungarian, so if anyone finds the titles of Jonlar's ballads strangely familiar yet a bit off, that's because they've been translated into Hungarian and now back into English by a DM who hasn't caught on to this particular shenanigan quite just yet.

"I didn't buy the rigmarole about leaving the castle via the wall in sight of the gatehouse. Good players would have done it out of sight, and better players would have gone through the gatehouse with intimidating banter."

I think our collective fear was that Hólangur was probably in cahoots with the guards and would be notified immediately if Kontar was seen leaving - and Melan uses "Bledsawian level distribution", so the guards at the gate very well might have proved more trouble to intimidate than worth. The wall segment was as out of sight as it got, it was only a bad roll that made a guard turn up right at the critical moment.

"Mechanically how did you manage this - active, passive, automatic?"

We're using proficiencies, and one of Jonlar's is Observation. Also, he wasn't obviously and enthusiastically busy with something else at the moment, so it made sense for him to be granted a roll.

"This is valuable to the pcs but unbelievable since none of them have a declared expertise in the field."

Actually, one PC does have the Tracking proficiency, and he was actively looking for them.

"I really like it. it reminds me of Warhammer, but you would make it substantially more legible if you could thin it, it looks bold."

Printed on paper, the Hungarian original is actually a lot more legible. I suspect the image size here is just a tad too small.

To add, we use a simple, broadly applicable skill system which we interpret rather loosely, in keeping with the player characters being well-rounded, competent individuals. We have found that skills don't dominate play, but help players orient themselves within the world and keep the action flowing - as you write, it works as an interface.

The font in the handout is DeiGratia; doesn't come out illegible in print. I am certain the letter will come up shortly in the campaign, but it was amusing to see the players go for the first random red herring in their way. As a GM, I particularly enjoy this emergent quality, and encourage it where I can. Doesn't work with all players, but this group gets it.

The two examples of skill use offer a good contrast.1) The characters are engaged in spirited conversation in a loud and busy pub, talking over each other and focusing their attentions on a rival group of adventurers. The skill check goes to the player who isn't actively engaged, since his character could conceivably pick up on someone watching them.2) The characters are looking for a specific site along a stretch of road. They know the approximate distance, but not the exact direction. Here, the most skilled character could try - and he rolled well, finding a trail the robbers had actually tried to cover with leaves. If they failed, they'd have had to try a different method, miss the spot, run into a random encounter, etc.

I occasionally use hidden skill checks, but that's perhaps one in twenty. For random events / generation where skills don't apply ("Will the guard return to the parapets?", "Is there a spy in the Seven Symbols?"), it is a straight 1d6 roll.

==it was amusing to see the players go for the first random red herring in their way.

It does show player confidence in the DM when they are not just sniffing out the prepared material because it will be more interesting [it should be]. Personally I think it is difficult to present a seamless environment where the prepared and the hastily imagined cannot be distinguished by the players. Do you divert the players so you can think? I like to get them discussing some problem in character so I can think.

What fraction of character skills are common to all adventurers, and what personal to a class/profession?

==I occasionally use hidden skill checks

Yeah the problem with hidden skill checks, I mean issues of perception and so on, is that while they seem logically obligatory I feel like I am spoiling opportunities to interact with the humans in front of me.

My impression is that we did our part for the starting situation and the interesting mystery (complete with the prop letter above) reasonably. We asked around, got no results, only some vague hints about an old man arriving later who failed to show up, then bumped into a stranger with an offer of quick money. What would YOU do?

Sounds like your choices worked out naturally. I have not been a player very often but my inclination is to operate within the material the DM has considered beforehand because it tends to be more interesting.

Ironically, if you have a nifty and grandiose central story (as can be assumed from the fancy prop letter and the whole campaign's title), you may be more inclined to run off on short side quests and whatnots, knowing there's always a basic plot you can return to.